Ring (1991)

After discovering that four teenagers died at the same time, on the same day, in the very same unlikely manner, ace reporter Kazuyuki Asakawa smells a scoop and begins to investigate. His situation becomes dire, however, when he stumbles upon a cursed videotape and, after viewing its contents, is told he has exactly one week to live. There was an 'or else' to the threat but, unfortunately, it's been taped over, leaving him with virtually no leads and no hope of escaping his fate. He, along with a crack team of colleagues and old friends, must find out for what purpose the tape was created and complete whatever task it wants of him before his time runs out and he becomes the curse's latest victim. It's Ring, for god sake! Y'all all know the story by now, right?

Besides the classic M. R. James ghost stories it's alleged to have been inspired by, Ring is largely to blame for the trend amongst young people of proliferating endless creepypasta dealing with haunted items and videos that contain impossible images. Everybody should be familiar with it to some degree, though as is usually the case, there are many differences between the classic film adaptations of the story and the book itself. Probably more than usual, in fact.

First off, those who are only familiar with the films might be surprised at the sci-fi aspects of the original novel and its generally post-modern feel. The events of the story are often viewed through the lens of popular American horror films, and the modern hustle and bustle of the city is contrasted against the mysterious and frightening 'old world' of primitive rural villages and tiny, quiet communities where seemingly anything can happen, safe from the eyes of society. The sci-fi exposition can sometimes get in the way of the very nature of effective horror, but still, the inspired way the book goes about literalizing and explaining every supernatural concept it deals in is admirable, especially because of how wild and unfettered it is: you're unlikely to ever read another horror novel where an angry ghost and the last remnants of smallpox team up together to teach humanity a lesson. Add to the mix the subversive qualities of the story, where instead of haunting a single location where she's buried, Sadako is freed to haunt all of society and make them pay, and you have something quite unique in the realm of ghost stories.

I also appreciate all the small touches of humor strewn throughout the book, something the movies are sorely lacking. There are lots of little moments of character, like Kazuyuki having to stop his investigation briefly so he can divvy up his insurance money and do the math on how much his wife and daughter will get and how long it will last them, etc. Lots of moments of character make the story hard to dislike, though not for lack of trying: Asakawa, in an effort to hurry along his investigation, brings along his one-of-a-kind friend Ryuji, a university professor who isn't afraid one bit to put his life in danger if it means a little excitement. Plus, he loves a good puzzle... annnd he's also a massive creep, and one of the least likable characters I've ever encountered in print. It's not that I don't think he was intended to come off that way, and in fact, the author does this Hideo Kojima-esque trick where he builds this guy up to be so unlikable, only to flip the script at the end, in a way that also reminds me a little of The Life of David Gale, in an attempt to guilt-trip us for wishing for the man's death pretty much from the word go. Except, if a man tells me he rapes unlucky women for fun, he has no one but himself to blame when I go to the authorities. 

And then there's Sadako, who's almost entirely different from both her Japanese and American film counterparts. While she's still rather unconventionally pure evil, leading to that famous twist where 'setting her free' from her underground prison doesn't do jack-shit, all the details are remixed in strange ways. The strangest is the revelation that Sadako is intersex, which would be interesting were it not for the fact that I don't really get what Suzuki was doing here. Like at all. Is it just as simple as 'she can't have children, so she's evil' and that's why it's there, or is there a more complex connection? I'm not convinced either way, but what I know for a fact is that all the late-game talk of Sadako's swinging pair comes off as antiquated. They refer to her as a man with 'testicular feminization syndrome' despite the fact that she looks like a woman, was raised as such, and identifies as such. And she has a vagina. Just no ovaries. So, obviously, she's a man, according to the book. End of story. Gender is all 'in the gonads' apparently. But at this point, when someone lacks the parts to reproduce at all, don't all traditional ideas of male and female break down somewhat? I mean, the book doesn't seem disgusted with her abnormal sexual characteristics, and in fact, seems to find them attractive (or at least interesting,) but the assertion that she's biologically male, again and again, is kind of hard to swallow and makes recommending this book even harder than the stuff around Ryuji. 

But getting back to the big picture; besides a few small differences like the particulars of how the tape informs you that you have only a limited time to live, the book contains most if not all of the general structure of the story that we all know and love, right down to later revelations and the twisted conclusion that ends with our hero carrying out Sadako's instructions to save his and his family's skin while dooming society at large. All it's missing is Sadako crawling out of the TV, but hey: the movie didn't have Sadako reproducing with and somehow giving birth to a virus that kills her victims for her, so I guess it may even out, depending on your view. Whether or not the differences will be a problem for new readers, or will instead make all the more attractive (as in my case) is hard to say, but considering the brevity of the material, and its breezy prose, I'd say anyone with any interest ought to check it out.